25. Scarlett
Scarlett
T he water was hot, the air cool, and my head was just fuzzy enough for everything to feel dreamlike. Steam curled into the night like a ghost. Someone had lit the string lights above us, and they flickered gold across the patio.
Sloane sat on the edge, feet dipped in, sipping a hard seltzer.
I pulled off the oversized sweatshirt I’d thrown over my bikini and tossed it onto a chair, pretending I didn’t notice Alden and Trace glance over at the same time.
Kane tossed me a cup. “The birthday girl looks good.”
“Eat your heart out,” I said, stepping into the tub, sinking with a dramatic sigh. “God, I feel like I’ve aged ten years in one day.”
“You look twenty,” Lena said, grinning. “Tops.”
“Bless you,” I said, raising my cup in a toast.
The wine had loosened my tongue hours ago, but the heat from the tub made it worse—or better, depending on who you asked. My legs brushed Alden’s under the water, and I didn’t move.
Trace sat just opposite of me. His gaze cut sharp, his fingers flexed slightly on the rim of the tub—like he was gripping the edge of restraint.
“So,” Kane said, sloshing water over the side as he shifted. “Who’s getting in trouble tonight?”
“I feel like Scarlett’s already halfway there,” Sloane muttered.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” I smiled sweetly and leaned back, letting the water rise to my collarbone.
I felt Trace watching me.
Felt Alden’s leg press against mine—and stay. Like maybe he needed the contact just to breathe.
It was warm and charged and stupid and perfect.
We sat there laughing and drinking, Rhett finally joining us.
Carrying a bottle of something probably illegal and definitely strong.
We passed the bottle back and forth, laughing at nothing.
Kane made up rules for a drinking game that made no sense.
Rhett kept losing, probably on purpose. Just to see how loud he could make us laugh.
For a while, it felt good. Easy. Like the night had stretched open for us and forgot to bring the weight we were all carrying.
Eventually, the conversations began to slow, the bottle was half-empty. The moon slid higher. One by one they peeled off—Lena got up first, sleepy and wine-dazed. Kane claiming he couldn’t feel his fingers, Rhett needing food. Towels were tossed, jokes were made, doors creaked open.
Sloane lingered, looking between me and the boys like she knew exactly what was brewing.
“You good?” she asked, voice low.
“Never better,” I said, teeth flashing.
She shook her head but didn’t argue. “Don’t drown.”
The door slid shut behind her, bringing with it a quiet.
Just the three of us.
The steam curled higher.
The silence grew heavy.
I smiled. Wicked. Loose. Buzzing.
It was too quiet.
The kind that made you feel every breath, every shift of water, every look that lingered a second too long. The second they left, something in the stillness changed.
Trace leaned back against the far edge of the hot tub, arms stretched along the rim, tension humming off him like heat. Alden rubbed his wrist, shifting closer to me, but not by much. Just enough that his knee grazed mine and didn’t move away.
And I was drunk. Hot. Floating in a mess of my own making.
Fuck it.
Let them want me.
Let me want them.
I tilted my head to Alden. “What was your first impression of me?” I asked, voice sweet but slicing.
He blinked. “In high school?”
“Yeah,” I said, resting my chin on my hand like I had all the time in the world.
He smiled. “You were trouble.”
“That’s not an impression. That’s a fact.”
“I thought you were fire. Like someone who’d set things on fire just to feel the heat.”
I looked at Trace. “And you?”
He didn’t speak for a long moment.
“You were loud that day at the lake,” he said. “Not your voice—just everything else. You walked toward me, and it was like… everything else faded.”
A shiver crawled down my spine And I looked between them, amused and aching.
“Why didn’t either of you ever say anything?”
Alden looked away.
“We wanted you happy,” Trace said.
“And now?” I asked.
He shrugged.
“Now it’s too late to stop.”
I laughed. Soft. Dangerous. Daring someone to break first.
I wasn’t trying to be cruel.
But maybe I wanted to be seen. Maybe I wanted to be chosen.
Or maybe… I just wanted to watch them fall.
And they were falling.
Hard. I could feel it.
Whatever this was—it started long before tonight.